Quatervois
by anyadoll
Summary: A flat tire in the middle of nowhere, a bottle of bourbon, and the worst game ever will be her downfall.


**A/N:** Been working on this off and on for a while, kind of my take on how Jane pulling away from Kurt after the revelations of 1.10 affects them. I've been interested in the idea of a meeting between Oscar and Kurt, and it was so fun to write and went in so many directions before I settled on what I wanted. "Quatervois" is French, meaning "a crossroads," or a "critical decision or turning point in one's life." Katie Costello, "Stranger" lyrics.

 **Quatervois**

XOX

 _Stranger you've followed me so far_

 _Until the roads converged, as did the stars_

 _Stranger the moon looks blue tonight_

 _Your photo framed, raw within my mind_

 _But not tonight_

XOX

"Two hours," Kurt groused, shoving his phone into his back pocket. He shook his head in irritation, surveying the obliterated front tires. Their suspect in the latest tattoo breakthrough had the rather annoying foresight to throw screws, nails, and shards of glass across the dirt path leading to his cabin after they'd spoken with him yesterday. He knew the man seemed a bit too skittish to be telling them anything remotely close to the truth. "I _hate_ this guy."

After his call to a local tow truck company ("local" being a relative term—nothing was _local_ to this area) and a body shop, he'd informed Reade and Zapata of the situation and instructed them to pursue the suspect. If their current predicament was any indication, chances were Travis Fuller was no longer at his cabin anyway.

He ran a hand through his hair and yanked at the collar of his shirt to loosen the buttons, pacing in agitation. What a fine day this was turning out to be. He'd fought with Sarah about their father once again; accidently broke one of Sawyer's toys, stepping on it in his haste to get to work, and now it would be hours before any tow truck would find them in the godforsaken forest of upstate nowhere, New York.

"Like the beginning of every horror movie I've ever seen," he grumbled, his words catching Jane's attention.

Kurt glanced over at her, sitting sideways in the passenger seat of the SUV, kicking her feet out like a bored child. She threw him a lopsided smile and shrugged, as if to say _it is what it is_.

It was the closest thing to acknowledgement he'd gotten from her in weeks.

Frankly, he could care less about being stuck in the backwoods boonies—nothing but a tension filled dinner and apologies to both his sister and nephew awaited him when he got home. Stuck with Jane, however—that was the true crux of his problem, his reason for being so aggravated at their current circumstances.

Their…relationship, of a sort, had been strained lately. His frustration stemmed from the simple fact he knew she was keeping something from him. Since she'd kissed him, since he'd found her in that hole Carter hid her away in, she'd put a wall between them. Her story—and that's surely what it was—didn't add up, and she knew he knew it.

At first he chalked her cool demeanor towards him up to being kidnapped and tortured. That did a number on a person, no matter how strong you thought you were. He'd held her hand at the hospital, told her anything she needed he would readily give her. Even then, she hadn't been able to meet his gaze. She'd dropped his comforting hand, a steely resolve in her usually compassionate green eyes as she told him she _needed space_ and perhaps she should _take a break_ _from all of this_. He'd winced at her underlying implication. The woman who'd so boldly kissed him hours before, that had turned and sauntered away with a seductive smile playing on her lips, was gone.

Her debrief with Mayfair seemed carefully rehearsed, recounting every detail in perfect clarity up to the part where Carter mysteriously took five bullets to the chest. She'd stumbled, stuttered, eyes cast to the side one time too many for there to be any truth in her words of a masked mystery man saving the day.

He'd caught up with her as she nearly fled the building, gently demanding to know what really happened in that dark room. She'd shaken her head, biting her lip forcefully, as if that would keep the truth in check before bolting for the elevators. She rebuffed his every attempt at comfort, at reaching out, turning him away from her front door and refusing his phone calls after that. It hurt all the more, watching her interact easily with everyone but him in the days and weeks following her abduction.

She'd barely spoken to him since then—anytime she did it was purely work related. Wouldn't meet his eyes for reasons he couldn't understand. In her weaker moments, he'd catch her staring at him with a heart-wrenching sorrow and something akin to regret that seemed to consume her very soul before she'd blink it away. Pretend nothing happened.

All this pretending was wearing on him.

Jane sighed, unable to take his pacing any longer. "So…um…what do we do until then?" Jane asked quietly, biting her thumbnail. Kurt came to an abrupt halt mid-pace, staring at her like she'd grown another head. He reflexively glanced over his shoulder, as if trying to figure out if she was really addressing him.

Jane would have laughed under different circumstances, but nothing about their situation was funny. His reaction was like ice water in her veins, and she tried to swallow the lump building in her throat. So this was how far she'd pushed him out of her world.

As with everything else—this, too, was all her fault.

She wanted nothing more than to pull him into her arms, tell him what really happened that night, let him know the kiss meant everything to her and that she didn't want space, and she didn't need a break—not from anything, least of all him.

But she didn't have that luxury now. She knew too much about _Her_ planto let him in. How could she tell him he was a mark without losing him? Even having to keep up this ridiculous façade of indifference, she still got to see him everyday. She could fool herself into believing that was enough, the alternative too much to bear.

Apparently she could add _actress_ to her list of special skills.

Kurt pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling the dull throb of a headache fast approaching.

 _Don't take your bad day out on her. Don't do it._

But he'd had enough eggshell walking to last him a lifetime. And there was no escape for either of their demons in the middle of nowhere.

He shot her a dark look, his frustration with the day and the past month bleeding into his words. "So you're talking to me now?" he snapped. She looked startled, almost confused at the bite in his words, before she remembered she was the one who'd started this and schooled her features into an impassive mask.

"Never mind," Jane whispered witheringly, turning to sit properly in the seat while yanking the passenger door shut.

The click of the automatic lock echoed in his head.

He'd become rather adept at shooting himself in the foot around her.

XOX

Kurt bent down, palming a few small stones. Any hope of his phone being a decent distraction was shot the moment the meager cell service vanished. He'd held the device as high as he could, walking in circles like an idiot, trying to get a bar and failing. Just his luck, he mused.

So he was taking his frustration out by throwing rocks at trees instead, no longer sure whose face he was picturing every time one hit its mark with a satisfying pop.

"What did those trees ever do to you?" Jane asked from somewhere behind him. She couldn't sit in the car any longer. Not talking to him was harder than she'd anticipated when there was nothing to do and nowhere to go. She couldn't duck into the bathroom or hide in Patterson's office, feigning interest in whatever the blonde was extrapolating from her tattoos.

"Nothing yet," Kurt replied, a small smirk touching his lips as she held his gaze a beat longer than she intended. She forgot how easy it was to get lost in his sea blue eyes. Jane blinked at that thought, severing their connection. Kurt shook his head, lobbing another rock at a tree farther away. His tone was far less playful this time. "Did you need something?"

Jane cleared her throat, trying to gain her composure before asking her silly question. "Did you, um…I was wondering if you had anything to eat," Jane winced, her stomach betraying her with a loud growl. She hadn't eaten breakfast that morning, her appetite disappearing once Kurt coolly informed her she would be riding with him. It had caught her off guard—she'd been partnering almost exclusively with Zapata.

Jane wondered idly if Mayfair had anything to do with this. God forbid her asset stop being productive because she and her case agent weren't getting along. Not that Jane had much of a choice in the matter, if her second meeting with Oscar was any indication. She nearly laughed, remembering the rendezvous with her former fiancé.

"You can't do this, if you ignore him he'll start getting suspicious. You need to go on as if everything is normal. Just because this _version_ of youfeels guilty that you're playing him doesn't mean you sacrifice everything _we_ worked so hard to plan," Oscar had seethed, angry that she wasn't following her own playbook. He ran a hand over his face, wanting to shake her out of the idea that she could be _Jane_ and not…he shook his head, squashing the thought. Right now it was fruitless to think of her as the woman he was once engaged to. It wasn't apart of the plan, and therefore, not important. "You already messed up. He was supposed to make the first move, not you."

"And how was I supposed to know that?" she'd thrown back. "In case you've forgotten, I don't have a lot of memory to work with! Sorry if acting on what I felt screwed up your—my— _whoever's_ grand plan!"

He stared at her then, wide-eyed and stunned. Hurt flooded his features, a resignation settling into the lines of his face. His laugh was harsh in her ears. "You know, I actually questioned why you gave me the ring back before we started all this. Some part of me thought you'd just _know_ I was out there, waiting for you. Too many fairytales, I suppose," Oscar rasped, the bitterness of his words almost too much for her to stand. "I think you knew, even then…you knew it wasn't going to be me. Even then, it was him. I just wish I knew if you'd planned on falling in love with him. Wish I knew if you ever really loved me at all."

Jane realized with sickening clarity that he had a point. She felt nothing for Oscar—he was little more than a stranger, even knowing their history together. She wasn't drawn to him like she was to Kurt; there was no heat, no electricity in his touch when he guided her into the dark safety of the tiny, rundown church. Maybe he'd been a means to an end as well, and he was just starting to figure that out for himself.

 _Could she be that conniving?_

"Oscar…I'm…"

He held up his hand, cutting her off. "Please, don't. I knew what could happen going in. Doesn't mean I have to like watching _my_ fiancé fall for the lonely, incorruptible _special agent_. Just…fix your issues with him. We need him in play," he said, turning to leave. He made it halfway to the exit before he paused, turning back to her with a menacing glint in his eye.

"You were always really good at getting what you wanted, you'll figure something out," Oscar taunted darkly, vanishing into the night with his cruel words and unscrupulous depiction of her character.

 _What kind of person had she been before? A clever enough seductress, someone who'd lead a man on so far as to gain his trust, his love, his devotion—enough of a liar to garner a ring for her troubles, to get him to follow her schemes unfailingly, only to throw it in his face as she fell for another man—or the man she'd intended to fall in love with all along?_

Jane's head pounded just thinking about all of Oscar's insinuations.

A gentle hand rested on her shoulder, giving it a light shake. Jane gasped, startled by his touch. "What?" she managed to say.

Kurt looked at her, blue eyes bright with so much concern she had to bite back tears. He let his hand drop, taking a step back. She felt instantly cold.

"I kept saying your name, you weren't responding. You okay, Jane?"

It was a rhetorical question, so she ignored it. "I'm just hungry. I…um…haven't eaten today," she admitted, feeling him stiffen as his protective mode kicked in.

Kurt looked more irritated than angry. "Jesus Jane, it's four in the afternoon! Why didn't you say something earlier? We could've grabbed something before we ended up in the middle of _Deliverance_ ," he scolded her, and she couldn't stop the smile taking over her face, even as his reference was lost on her. He continued to mutter to himself as he went around to the trunk of the SUV. She caught bits and pieces, mostly about her being thin as a twig and something about banjos and how could she possibly fly a helicopter and speak three languages but not remember to feed herself.

"Might be in luck…sort of," Kurt called over to her. Jane perked up at the prospect of food of any sort, moving the short distance to stand next to him. "Supposed to be dessert for tonight—Sarah's favorite, Sawyer's too—best kind of apology."

Jane tilted her head. "Why do you need to apologize to them?"

Kurt hesitated, and she could tell he was ambivalent about sharing any personal information with her. He seemed to make up his mind, continuing. "Sarah and I fought about my dad, again. And I broke one of Sawyer's toys this morning. Then being stuck here...it hasn't been a great day," he rattled off dryly.

 _Stuck here…with her._ He didn't say it, but then, he didn't have to. If he saw the hurt flash in her eyes, he ignored it. And, she supposed, she probably deserved it.

Jane sighed, reading the label on the package he pulled from a paper bag. She wasn't sure what red velvet was, but her mouth watered as the scent of the baked good hit her nose. She hadn't disliked any of the desserts she'd tried yet, so this was promising.

"And that's why, when I stopped at the market, I bought this," Kurt continued, proudly holding the bottle of bourbon up as if he'd won a prize.

Jane hopped up into the trunk, sitting cross-legged. She placed the plastic carton of red velvet cookies on her lap while Kurt worked on opening the bourbon. "Aren't we on the clock?" Jane asked around a mouthful of gooey cookie.

Kurt laughed—the first real laugh she'd heard from him since that night. "Does it matter? We're not going anywhere. Not like we can drive. We'll be sober by the time a tow truck actually finds us out here anyway."

XOX

"That doesn't make a lot of sense, I don't exactly have many memories to reference," Jane observed, popping the rest of her eighth—or ninth, not that anyone was counting—cookie into her mouth as they discussed possible games to play while they waited.

 _I Never_ was out of the running, as she couldn't remember anything she had or had not done, and _20 Questions_ seemed just as silly. Jane commented that most of these "games" sounded like interrogation techniques, which had Kurt shaking his head while trying not to spit red velvet cookie everywhere.

They'd seemed to form a tentative, unspoken truce in the midst of their predicament. For now, ignoring the fact that they were supposed to be ignoring each other was being…well, ignored.

"I can't believe you don't remember _Truth or Dare_ , Jane. I figured that was a game deeply ingrained in the female psyche."

Jane shrugged a shoulder, picking at the crumbs in the plastic box. "The _Dare_ part seems kind of limited, given where we are right now. How about we change it— _truth or lie_ seems a bit more reasonable."

Kurt thought about it for a second, before nodding. "You have to guess if the other person is lying or telling the truth. And if you're right, they drink."

"Sounds fair," Jane agreed. Kurt uncapped the bourbon, setting it between them.

"I once stole flowers for my eighth grade girlfriend," Kurt started them off. Jane thought back to the keycard he'd lifted off of Rich DotCom's security guard.

"Truth," Jane announced, smile widening at the absurdity of the remark. Indeed, he raised the bottle to his lips. "C'mon, that was almost too easy."

"Fine, it's your turn anyway."

She wavered for a moment. "I like Country music," she tried. Kurt saw right through her.

"Talk about too easy. Lie," he laughed. She grabbed the bottle from him, taking a pull.

"My favorite color is orange."

Jane tilted her head, studying him. "Lie."

He drank again.

"What is your favorite color?" she asked curiously. Kurt gave a quick shake of his head, his eyes lingering on her vivid, emerald green ones. Jane felt her cheeks warm. She was smart enough to chance a guess, but didn't want to ruin the light mood they'd set. It was the first time in more than a month that they weren't acting awkward or jilted around each other, and she would savor it as long as she could.

"Not part of the game."

Jane rolled her eyes in response. "I don't like sushi."

"Truth," Kurt smirked, already knowing the answer. She bobbed her head anyway, sipping the liquor.

That had been an interesting night with the team. Patterson as so excited for her to try sushi for the first time, explaining to her the components and how she'd taken classes with David—the first time she'd said his name without crumbling to pieces—and that they were going to her _absolute favorite_ restaurant and there was no way Jane wouldn't love it. As soon as the plate was set in front of her, and Patterson explained how to eat it, she'd eagerly popped one of the round, seaweed wrapped, bite-sized pieces into her mouth, expecting some kind of epiphany. Instead she'd gagged at the slimy texture, promptly spitting the cold ball of rice and raw fish onto her plate without a stitch of grace. Zapata laughed so hard Jane was sure rice came out of her nose, and Reade shook his head as Kurt handed him a five-dollar bill. Apparently betting on her likes and dislikes had become a "thing" at the office, courtesy of Tasha. In spite of the terrible experience, Patterson refused to be dissuaded. But Jane was wary to take any kind of food recommendations from her after that.

Kurt's voice pressed her out of the fond memory and back into the real world. "I can play the piano."

"Lie," Jane said skeptically, unsure. He didn't drink. "Really?"

"Don't look so surprised. I told you, you're not the only one with hidden talents. My mom made Sarah and I take lessons when we were kids. Something about learning discipline and patience."

"So that's why you can deal with me," said Jane, sounding a bit self-deprecating.

"I don't consider you something I _deal with_ , Jane," he said firmly.

Her smile was small as she studied him. "Truth."

He nodded, even though the statement hadn't been a part of the game.

Jane couldn't take the intensity of his stare or the swell of happiness his words invoked. She broke the spell as quickly as she could. "I know when my birthday is."

"Lie," Kurt replied quietly, feeling a pang in his chest. She took a sip in turn.

They continued on, keeping the game as light as they could. But the more they drank the more turns the game took, and the more truth spilled forth—truths neither would have shared had they been remotely sober.

Jane giggled in response to the story behind one of Kurt's truths. High on the laugher and the effects of the alcohol, her next statement was out before she'd really even thought it through. "Of all my tattoos, I have two favorites."

It was Kurt's turn to eye her curiously. "Truth."

Another sip.

"One of your favorite tattoos is the bird on your neck," Kurt stated, taking the bottle from her before she could even respond.

"Hey, that's supposed to be my truth," she said softly, before averting her gaze. Jane chewed her lip, weighing her decision. "The other is your name."

She wouldn't meet his eyes, but from her body language he could tell she wasn't lying.

"Truth."

Another half nod, and the beginnings of a blush. She took the bottle back, drinking quickly in an attempt to hide her reddening cheeks.

He decided to offer something equally telling. "I've been jealous of the team since…since you pushed me away. You're fine around them and…I just don't know what I did, or how to fix it," his laugh was hollow. '''I don't think I've fought with Tash this much since I met her. And I probably owe poor Patterson a thousand apologies, calling her out for hiding you in her lab."

Jane glanced up, feeling nauseous. Did he really think he'd done something wrong? She'd kissed him. She'd done this to herself. She'd chosen him to be her pawn in some kind of game only the Other Her knew about.

She had no response for him. Her thoughts turned to Oscar and the video. How long until he figured out she was a liar, a con-woman masquerading as an innocent bystander? "I'm afraid I'm… going to end up alone."

"Lie," Kurt answered back, not unkindly. She knit her forehead, thinking over her words before pulling the bottle out of his grip. "You're afraid of losing me, Jane…why?"

"Not part of the game," Jane repeated his earlier words, a self-satisfied smirk touching her lips before she swallowed thickly. "I wish I hadn't kissed you."

Hurt crossed his face for a brief moment. "Lie."

Her eyes held his as she tipped the bottle back. It was a half-truth, but she drank anyway. The longer this went on the more painful it became. Perhaps _dare_ would have been easier. Kurt wrenched the bottle from her grasp.

"Maybe you do regret it, or want to forget, but I don't," he said firmly, a hint of resentment touching his words.

Jane floundered for a moment, trying to think of something to say. "I want to know how you really feel…about me."

Kurt took a small sip of the bourbon in her place at that, and she saw pain in his eyes. "Lie, again," he said, holding her gaze.

She swallowed hard, the knot in her throat building. He was right, she didn't want to know. Knowing that would make it real. It would make it all that much harder once he knew she'd been the architect of this grand plan.

He set the bottle between them once more. "You're keeping something from me, Jane."

Jane gave the slightest nod, coming to the fast conclusion that they weren't really playing the game anymore. "Truth."

His hand retracted from the bottle, and she took that momentary lapse in judgment to take it back. She closed her eyes tightly. "I'm afraid of what you'll think of me once you know. Afraid of…how you'll see me. And I…I like the way you see me, now. I like the way you look at me."

Kurt heard the desperation in her voice. Whatever she kept locked away was tearing her apart.

He reached out, curling his hand around hers. "I won't see you any differently, Jane."

"Lie," she said sadly, knowing right now that it was the truth, but it wouldn't be soon enough. "I want you to know…no matter what happens, no matter what we find out about me…I care about you, Kurt."

He stared at her strangely, unable to read the distress.

She put the bottle to her lips. Her eyes welled as the alcohol burned its way down her throat in large gulps. Maybe if she drank enough, the fire would tear her apart.

"Jane, stop," Kurt demanded, yanking the bottle from her numb fingers.

Damn her high tolerance.

Her laugh was bitter as she met his puzzled gaze, her green eyes going cold, detached, and just the slightest bit lost. She trailed her fingertips involuntarily over the bird on her neck. "I did _this_ to myself," she gasped, trying to keep the sob threatening to break through at bay. "I _chose_ you."

Kurt searched her face for any indication she was screwing with him. Even as he looked for a lie, he could see the alarming truth. He felt winded, like she'd punched him. All of his air escaping him as he turned the words over in his mind. _I chose you._

He choked on his words. "It's…that's a lie…Jane?"

She bit her lip, the tears falling as she revealed her deepest truth. The weight of that secret lifted, only to be replaced by the greater burden it now bore.

When Jane finally looked up at him, she saw her fear confirmed. She pushed away her tears, smiling sadly. "I told you, you were lying."

Kurt pulled his hand away from hers like he'd been scorched. She didn't dare stop him, wouldn't try to convince him of her solidarity to the team, to him. The wheels were already turning in his head, searching for hints of her deceit throughout the course of their short time together. Some sign that she'd played him for a fool.

He was right. As she watched his eyes shutter, she knew she wasn't afraid of ending up alone. She was afraid of losing him. And now…now she had.

Two bright beams of light cut across the dirt path, illuminating them both. Kurt stood abruptly, breaking eye contact. He jogged over to the driver, berating him a bit more harshly than he'd intended for the long wait.

Jane moved away from both the driver and Kurt as they went about hooking the SUV up, not daring to speak.

Twenty minutes of brutal silence later, they sat squished together in the front seat of the truck, once again driving down the dark expanse of the highway.

The pit in her stomach widened. The knowledge that nothing would ever be the same ringing in her head.

 _You did this to yourself._

XOX

Jane gave her security detail a weak smile as they bid her goodnight. Closing the door behind her, she sagged against it, sliding down the hard surface.

Kurt didn't speak to her, wouldn't look at her for the duration of the trip back into the city. He'd called her detail to collect her and walked off in search of Mayfair, she was sure.

This was it for her.

 _But what did you really expect? Open arms? A rousing 'we'll get through this' speech?_

More than ever she wanted to know her reasonings for involving this man. Oscar said he'd come to her when her plan allowed it, but that wasn't good enough. She needed answers _now_. But would he give her any? No, he was loyal to the Other Her. The one who had at least pretended to love him.

The tears spilled down her cheeks and she did nothing to stop them, the cookies and liquor revolting in her stomach.

"Some mess you've made," she whispered aloud.

Jane tilted her head back against the door, closing her eyes.

It wasn't long before exhaustion overtook her.

XOX

The consistent knocking on the door jarred her out of her fitful sleep.

"Ouch," Jane muttered, massaging the knot in her neck. Sharp pain shot down her spine and radiated across her back, letting her know what a bad idea it had been, falling asleep against her front door.

Add that to her growing list of regrets.

She stood, her joints popping as she did so. Thirty suddenly seemed very old.

"What?" Jane snapped, yanking the door open. She withdrew quickly, sure her eyes were playing tricks on her. "Kurt?"

He didn't wait for her to invite him in.

She closed the door gently, glancing at the time on her cell phone. Midnight flashed brightly on the slim screen.

He was quiet for a long while, back to her. Jane crossed her arms, nervous and annoyed at the same time. If he'd come to tell her she could no longer work with them, better he tell her sooner than prolong her misery.

"What do you want, Kurt," Jane said stiffly, not feeling especially welcoming.

She watched his shoulders fall. He turned to face her, a bone-deep weariness coating his expression. An he still wouldn't meet her eyes.

"I want to know what happened that night, Jane. The real story. You lied to Mayfair, to me, and I knew it then," he said, curling his fists intermittently. "Even so, I gave you the benefit of the doubt. You pushed me away, you dropped _this_ on me. You owe me at least that much, Jane."

She wasn't quite sure what she expected. Anger, bitter words, her swift release from the team. An explanation wasn't high on her list of potential outcomes. Then again, she had dropped a rather vague bomb on him with little context during what constituted as a drinking game.

Jane gave the smallest nod, moving away from the door to sit on the edge of the worn couch. Kurt took the chair across from her, keeping his leather jacket on. He wouldn't be staying long, then.

She cleared her throat, unsure where he wanted her to begin. After the kiss, her perilous walk home, or did she jump to the meat of the story? Whatever the case, honesty was probably the best policy at this juncture.

"Oscar killed Carter and his men," Jane stated flatly. Kurt glanced up at the unfamiliar name, a question forming on the tip of his tongue. She watched as he answered it himself.

"Your fiancé," he replied. She bit her lip, willing herself to ignore the undercurrent of jealously she heard. Maybe all wasn't lost.

"Former," she added quietly. "He, um…he didn't say much. Held out a cell phone and played a video…of me. I don't know when it's from, anywhere between six months to a year ago, maybe."

"How can you place the time?" Kurt asked, his tone a bit too professional for her liking. As if she was in an interrogation room.

Jane toyed with the ends of her hair unconsciously, continuing. "My hair, it was long. There were no tattoos. She was…different. Didn't even seem like…like me."

"And what was the video about?"

Jane swallowed thickly. "She told me…she told me that I could trust Oscar. She said he was following my orders. She said this was—or is— _my plan._ She told me that I…I chose to send myself to you. I chose you," she gasped, feeling her breathing falter.

Kurt's jaw clenched so hard Jane was sure he'd chip a tooth.

"Nothing more than that, that's all he'll tell me. He doesn't answer my questions. I don't know why I picked you, Kurt. Oscar won't tell me. I'm not sure he even knows."

Kurt's knee bounced rhythmically. He stood abruptly, taking large strides towards her front door.

She jumped up after him, afraid of what he'd do with the information she'd given him. "Please, Kurt," Jane pleaded, her chest tightening. She knew if he left then, that would be it. There'd be no saving them. "Please…don't leave."

He gave a small shake of his head. "What do you want me to say, Jane? What do you want from me? I don't know what you are, or who you're supposed to be. I mean, you've given yourself the perfect cover; no memory, a massive skill set of which we've only begun to scratch the surface, the name of an FBI Agent stamped on your back, the face of a girl I used to know..." he had to pause, had to look away from her sad green eyes at that. His voice was hard and distant when he finally spoke again. "What was your plan? Get close to me, seduce me, imbed yourself into my life so much that I'd never see your betrayal coming, or just enough that I wouldn't believe it? I'm guessing this reveal happened a bit sooner than the two of you expected. Gotta figure you intended our relationship to be a bit farther along before you were exposed."

Jane visibly recoiled at his sordid implication. His words were as cruel as Oscar's had been, if not worse. He may as well have slapped her across the face.

She was half-sick of baseless accusations. If that was the case, both men were using her as much as she was using them. Of that she couldn't be more certain.

"If I'm a liar, or this manipulative woman you've made me out to be, then you're a hypocrite," Jane spat back at him. She could make him eat crow, too. "You claim, with no real evidence, that I'm using you, when you've been using me all along. You've benefited from my participation with the team—you can't say your career isn't just a bit shinier, now. You can't say I'm using you for access when, clearly, I had access all along. You can't say that since you've thought that I might be Taylor, you haven't clung to that fantasy, used it to validate your name on my back. Used it to justify everything you feel for me. Because if I'm her, then all is forgiven, isn't it? And if I'm not, then what, Kurt?"

He looked stunned by the viciousness of her words. "I don't know."

Her hollow laugh reverberated inside the tiny apartment. "I guess you were wrong. You told me I was a good person. That whoever I'd been before didn't matter now. And I believed you. I thought you meant it. Guess that courtesy only extended so far." Jane finished quietly. She had no fight left, and wasn't all that sure what she was fighting for to begin with. She nodded at the door. "We're done. You know your way out, Agent Weller."

A war played out in the depths of his eyes, and for a moment it looked as if he had more to say. But he twisted the knob and left her home, and she felt emptier than she had since she'd crawled out of that bag.

As the door closed with a firm finality, she knew she was right.

They were done.

XOX

Kurt wandered the dark side streets until he found himself at his favorite bar. He was in desperate need of a drink after his less than ideal confrontation with Jane.

"Thanks Jim," Kurt muttered as the bartender slid a glass with a rather heavy pour of his favorite whiskey in front of him as soon as he sat down.

"Don't thank me. Guy came in here earlier and bought it for you. Said you'd be in tonight," Jim said warily.

Kurt tensed, immediately scanning the bar. "This is important—did you recognize him? Can you describe him?"

Jim shook his head. "No, never seen him around here before. But I can do better than a description," he said, sliding a piece of paper in front of Kurt. "I figured a strange guy comes in buying a future drink for an FBI Agent, can't be good."

"That fancy art school should consider themselves lucky to have you, Jim," Kurt said distractedly, avidly studying the sketch.

"Yeah, tell that to my professors," Jim laughed, nodding at Kurt as he went to take the order of a pretty red head at the end of the bar.

Kurt quickly downed the rest of the drink, the sketch gripped in his hand. He'd barely made it out the door when he felt the cool press of a gun barrel against his side. Kurt froze, already guessing whom the assailant could be.

"Not your best move, Oscar," he said quietly.

Oscar slid the sketch from Kurt's fingertips "Not a bad likeness. Kid's got talent. Think I'll just hold onto this," he said evenly. He pulled Kurt's cell phone from his jacket pocket and slipped it into his own. "And this."

"Didn't think killing me was part of your plan," Kurt said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Please, like she'd let me," Oscar threw back, nudging Kurt forward. "You and I, we need to have a talk."

XOX

Kurt eyed Oscar suspiciously across the table. The diner was the cheap, twenty-four hour kind, with chipped formica countertops and crappy food and waitresses that barely remembered an order let alone a face in the crowd.

Two cups of tepid coffee sat in front of them, untouched.

"What's this about," Kurt said, knowing the answer.

"I'll assume you're smart enough to figure that one out yourself, _Special Agent_ ," Oscar replied, tone sour.

"Jane, then. Figured as much."

Oscar's hand gripped the mug tightly, his eyes closing in agitation. "That's not her name," he ground out.

"Then why don't you tell me what it is? And yours, for that matter," Kurt said, reveling in getting under the man's skin.

Oscar shook his head, narrowing his gaze. He took in a deep breath, doing his best to keep a cool head. Lord knew how she could stand this man's impertinence. "Call her whatever you want, you'll never know _her_. Besides, we're not here to discuss her name."

Kurt laughed, running a hand over his face. "Then what the hell am I doing here? I know your face. Your name—or your alias at the least. You've said you can't kill me. The second you let me go, one phone call is all I'll need to have the entire FBI searching for you."

"But you won't." Oscar's smile was sly and knowing as he studied Kurt's surprised face. "By now you've figured out she needs me. She's told you about the video, what I did to the CIA director in service of her. Honestly, despite my attempts to dissuade her, I'm surprised it took her this long to clue you in. Believe me when I say there was never a plan A, B, or Z that included us sitting here, chatting. She deviated. "

"Thank you, for helping her," Kurt acknowledged, feeling he owed a debt to the man that saved her from further torture.

"I didn't do it for you. Your incompetence led to her abduction. Shouldn't let your guard down like that Agent Weller. You have a duty to protect her as much as I do," Oscar continued as Kurt visibly winced at his accusation. "I'll always be there, in the background, watching out for her like she told me too and assisting when the situation calls for it. But you have a front row seat, Agent Weller. To everything. I don't think you understand the scope of what we're doing, or how integral your part is. So, do me a favor. Listen, and don't make me say this more than once."

XOX

Staring at the ceiling was becoming her only respite when she lay in bed at night. It was too quiet in the dark house, and there were too many thoughts consuming her mind for sleep to be any kind of relief.

So she tossed and turned and embraced yet another sleepless night.

The knock startled her. For a moment she thought she was hearing things before it came again. The numbers on her alarm clock glared half past two in the morning.

Jane sighed, slipping an oversized shirt over the sports bra and too-short shorts she wore before she made her way to her door.

She'd long given up checking the tiny peephole. If people from her former life were going to break in, there was no stopping them.

She pulled the door open, once again startled by the man on the other side. Her face fell as she immediately tried to close the door on him.

"Jane, please…" Kurt started, gripping the doorjamb. "Just hear me out."

"Seriously, Kurt? I think I've been insulted enough for one night. Just…leave me alone, we're done," she whispered, desperate for him to leave.

"The hell we're done," he shot back, moving past her without permission, again.

"What is there left to say?" Jane demanded, feeling defeated. She was tired in a way she couldn't remember being before. Her skin crawled, itched with his unkind accusations and her own spiteful words from earlier.

Kurt hesitated as she crossed her arms defensively. He could practically see the walls surrounding her. "I trusted you, Jane. I let you in. I don't do that. It's been a long time since I…since I let myself get close to anyone. And to be told I was chosen to fit a role for some unknown plan…that's a lot to process. Honestly, I can't figure out if I'm supposed to be flattered or deeply offended," he added as an afterthought.

Jane raised an eyebrow. "So…what? Is this supposed to be some kind of apology? Because it's pretty bad."

She turned, already walking back to her room. She was far too tired for this.

"I talked to Oscar."

His words stopped her cold. Jane whipped back around, fear set in her eyes.

"You know, despite the fact that he's your ex-fiancé and had me at gunpoint the whole time, he's not that bad of a guy," Kurt smirked, enjoying the confused expression on her lovely face.

"What…um…what did he say, to you?" Jane asked carefully.

Kurt shrugged. "Nothing of consequence."

Jane rolled her eyes. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means…he didn't tell me anything I didn't already know."

"And you felt the need to race over here at three in the morning just to tell me this?"

Kurt shook his head, taking a few steps closer. "No, Jane. I came here to say I'm sorry. What I said was uncalled for. You're not _her_ anymore. And you are a good person, probably a better one than me, in fact. You told me about Oscar and the video even though you knew what it could mean for your future on the team. What it could mean for us. I'm just…sorry, Jane."

Jane's lip quirked, processing his words. "You're not the only one who said things they shouldn't have. I'm sorry, too."

"So…truce?" Kurt grinned, holding his hand out for her to take.

Even in the dark he could see the flush playing on her cheeks at the childlike gesture. She took his hand, giving it a firm shake. "Yeah, truce."

"Look, about Oscar, and the video, and this plan…you can't tell the team, Jane. This stays between us. I'm not sure who all I can trust at the bureau. I'm still on the fence about Mayfair, and the fewer people that know the better," Kurt said, dropping her hand. Jane nodded in agreement, wondering if Oscar had put him up to that. "I'll see you tomorrow, Jane."

"Hey, Kurt," Jane spoke as his hand gripped her doorknob.

"Yeah?"

"Will you…uh…stay, please? I know that's asking a lot, but I just haven't been able to sleep since Carter, and—"

"It's okay, I'll stay."

She gave him a small smile, feeling nervous. Aside from today, they hadn't been alone together in any capacity in over a month. And what she felt certainly hadn't dissipated in that time, even with their painful fight still fresh between them.

"Should I take the couch?" he asked, peeling his jacket off and dropping it on the chair. "Jane?"

"What does this mean for us?" She burst out, the question dancing on the tip of her tongue since he'd mentioned her eschewing the consequences and the future with the team in lieu of telling him about everything.

Kurt looked startled. "What?"

"What _does_ this mean for us _,_ Kurt?" she recounted softly.

He shrugged helplessly. "I don't know, Jane. Apologizing doesn't automatically solve everything. I think we still have a lot to work through."

"Yeah…yeah, you're right," she nodded, a bit disheartened. "I'll get a pillow and a blanket for you."

Jane left the suddenly all too confining living room, grabbing a pillow from her bed. She could keep it together. She could pretend she was okay with the status quo, even if it hurt. It was harder to pretend now, though. Now she had a frame of reference for what it was like to be held by Kurt Weller, to kiss him. The one thing she regretted was not letting herself have another taste before she'd told him about everything. Then again, that probably would only have made matters worse.

 _Keep it together_.

Pillow in hand, she turned to grab a blanket from the linen closet. Instead she was met with a warm, solid body, Kurt's hands coming to rest on her waist as she stumbled back. "Jesus, Kurt! Don't do that to me," Jane gasped, shoving him gently.

He seemed to waver for a moment, searching her face. The same repressed desire he felt reflected back at him. They couldn't avoid each other, or this thing between them, forever.

"I have no idea what's in store for us, and we do have some things to work through. But I've spent nearly two months missing you, if that's possible," he said quietly, his left hand moving from her waist to cup her cheek. "We're in this together. And I forget that, sometimes."

Jane leaned closer, dropping the pillow. "Guess I'll have to make sure you don't forget, then," she whispered.

Neither could say who moved first, and it didn't matter anyway. Their first kiss had been new and curious and hesitant. And interrupted before they'd had a chance to explore it further.

But here—save for her detail that remained outside—they were alone. That sent a sharp thrill down her spine as she threaded her fingertips through his short hair and tugged him closer. Kissing him was automatic, familiar—and something akin to being shocked by a livewire.

At some point his brain switched off to anything outside of the two of them, standing in the middle of her bedroom making out like teenagers. His hand moved from her cheek to the back of her neck, keeping her in place while his other hand traveled under the hem of the oversized shirt she wore, skimming the warm expanse of skin beneath it. He wanted the shirt gone. Close wasn't close enough.

But so much had happened in the span of hours, and god forbid he ruined this now.

He broke away, eliciting a perturbed sound from Jane that he'd do anything to hear again. His hands continued to move along her back and she instinctively arched into him.

"Jane…maybe we should put this on hold. Get some sleep," he chided as she protested his statement, linking her arms around his neck.

"Who needs sleep, really?" she said shyly.

He smiled at her eagerness but held his ground. "It's been a very long, very weird, very bad day…I don't want _this_ to be a byproduct of _that._ "

She smirked, wanting to throw him off his suddenly high horse. She leaned in, pushing herself on tiptoes to whisper in his ear. "But makeup sex is supposed to be the best kind."

It had been something Zapata mentioned in passing while Jane was playing keep away with Kurt the past month and a half. Patterson had jumped in, of course, agreeing with her friend. "You two need to get over this thing and just do it. Seriously. Makeup sex is the best sex you'll ever have," the brunette had said sagely, swearing up and down that she would never lie about that. When Jane had commented that they'd never even had normal sex, Tasha had shrugged her off, a _Sure-Like-I-Believe-That_ look crossing her face.

Kurt felt his face flame, trying and failing to stifle his laughter. "You're spending too much time with Patterson and Zapata for your own good," he said, caught completely off guard by her brazenness.

"Probably." Jane grimaced. "But I've spent just as long wanting this as badly as you do. I know it's my fault, but I hate that we lost that time," she said, hovering within his space. His lips found hers again, and she could feel herself spiraling further down this hole they'd dug for themselves.

Kurt sighed, his hands trailing from her shoulders down to grip her fingers, tugging her gently towards her bed. "Doesn't mean you have to makeup for it in one night, Jane. Or at all."

She'd appreciate his chivalry if it wasn't so horribly frustrating. She did her best to quell the twisting in her stomach, aching for more than heated kisses and pretty words that spoke of later instead of now. His mind was made up and she doubted even she could change it.

Kurt slid onto the bed next to her, pulling the comforter over them. She kept herself at a distance, fear playing on her face. "What's wrong, Jane?" he pressed, feeling the tension rolling off of her in waves.

"I don't want you to change your mind about me. I know you're hurt, but so am I. I have to live with knowing I sent myself to you, and not knowing why. I don't want you to think this version of me is using you, because this is real, at least for me. But I can't help thinking that's why you're pushing me away right now," Jane said, trying to make sense of the mess in her mind.

Kurt huffed, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her flush against him. She molded instantly to the hard planes of his body, wishing the barriers of clothing would disappear. She wasn't wearing much to begin with, but he remained in his navy blue tee and jeans.

"Trust me, Jane, being this close to you is anything but easy," he said, placing a teasing kiss along the edge of her earlobe. "Besides, you're not the only one who has things they need to makeup for. I could've handled this better, trusted you more, not jumped to conclusions."

Kurt paused, not sure how to make her understand she was as important to him as he was to her.

"It's real for me, too. More than you know."

She buried her face into his neck, breathing him in while hiding the tears gathering in her eyes. His hand once again rested beneath her shirt, tracing slow circles along her back. "Are we okay?"

The rise and fall of his chest lulled her into a contentment she hadn't felt since before she was taken. "Yeah, Jane. We're okay."

"You'll be here, in the morning," she asked, her voice nearly lost to the sleep overtaking her.

He turned onto his back, gently adjusting her so she could rest in the crook of his shoulder, one arm tossed over his broad chest.

"I wouldn't be anywhere else, Jane. We're in this, together."

XOX

 **A/N 2:** I wanted to leave the conversation between Kurt and Oscar open for interpretation. You decide what he told him. If she's Taylor, if she's not, what his role is, etc. I could speculate all day long but I thought it would be a bit ambiguous and more fun this way. Hopefully this fic wasn't too weird. Their fight and subsequent makeup was difficult to translate. I didn't know if I was taking it too far or not far enough, or if the apologies seemed authentic. It's probably been my most difficult piece to write, and I'm not even sure if it's any good. Let me know!


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